


The Fairy-Tale Method

by Laur



Series: Don't Tell Me You Love Me [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 666 Fics Fics Fics (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Pre-Slash, Sleepy Kisses, love and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laur/pseuds/Laur
Summary: The rich aroma of coffee warms the air and Crowley’s lips tingle with the aftertaste of a kiss. Not just any kiss. An angel’s kiss.





	The Fairy-Tale Method

The rich aroma of coffee warms the air and Crowley’s lips tingle with the aftertaste of a kiss. Not just any kiss. An angel’s kiss.

Safe in his dreams, Crowley lets his joy flow freely, mouth tugging up at the corners as he basks in the warmth. Soft lips press to the corner of his smile, then his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, like fluttering butterfly wings against his eyelids.

“Crowley, dear,” his angel breathes against his skin. “It’s time to wake up.”

Crowley sighs in disagreement, clutching at the wisps of sleep that slip through his fingers like stardust.

Another kiss, on his lips, less chaste and more insistent. The haze of sleep begins to disperse but the pressure remains, Crowley’s mouth falling open with a gasp. In the limbo between slumber and wakefulness, Crowley surrenders to the kiss without thought, head tilting back, body restrained by bedsheets. It’s delicious, it’s glorious, it’s everything Crowley wants but can’t have.

A gentle thumb strokes his cheekbone, wiping away the lingering brain fog and Crowley whimpers in protest, squeezing his eyes shut even as his awareness blooms. It’s only when he realizes that the kiss isn’t stopping, that Aziraphale’s scent still fills his nose, that Aziraphale’s hand still cups his cheek, that his eyes fly open.

Aziraphale draws back and Crowley is too befuddled to stop him, hands getting tangled in the sheets. His sleep-heavy tongue stumbles over sounds until he manages, croaky, “Aziraphale - what?”

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale beams down at him, red-lipped and self-satisfied and Crowley can only gape. “I made you coffee.”

“Did you – what was –” He manages to wriggle free and takes the steaming mug automatically. Rather than embarrass himself further, he takes a burning sip.

“I have it on good authority that a kiss is guaranteed to wake someone up.” Aziraphale is leaning on his hip on the edge of the bed, smiling smugly but hands clenched in his lap.

“Whose authority, the Grimm brothers?” Crowley sputters, still dazed and feeling cheated. Their first kiss and he was asleep for most of it.

“I thought you don’t read books?”

“Saw the movie,” Crowley growls. “Not the point.”

“Oh?”

“Aziraphale.”

“Well, considering how deeply you sleep it seemed like –”

“_Aziraphale_.”

“Oh, is it really such a surprise?” Aziraphale says testily. “After all this time? After what happened?”

Crowley looks at him fidgeting, avoiding his gaze, and nearly hisses his annoyance. Aziraphale is the one who caught _him_ unawares. Half-asleep, projecting all his _feelings_ – it’s not like Aziraphale can’t sense that sort of thing.

“Finished?” Aziraphale gestures at the mug, taking it and putting it on the bedside table when Crowley doesn’t respond. “You didn’t seem to mind,” he grumbles.

“Of course I didn’t mind! I just—”

“Just what?”

_Didn’t want it to stop_. “It’s a bit creepy you know, going ‘round kissing sleeping people.”

Aziraphale scoffs, sitting with his back partially turned. “As if there are any other people I would kiss, demonic or otherwise.”

It’s an admission of sorts, his jaw tense in profile and eyes averted. Crowley lays a trembling hand on his shoulder. “I’m still kinda tired.”

Aziraphale frowns. “You can’t possibly want to sleep _more_—”

“No, I think I’d rather be awake for this.”

The frown smooths out. “I could get you more coffee?”

Crowley leans forward and urges Aziraphale to turn. “Another method, I think.”

“A fairy-tale method?” Aziraphale asks hopefully, scooting to face him, hands lifting to cup Crowley’s face.

“I’ve always loved happy endings,” Crowley admits, an admission of his own, and their lips meet with bruising force. This time, Crowley is very much awake, responding to Aziraphale’s every suggestion, sucking on Aziraphale’s bottom lip, shivering with the graze of Aziraphale’s teeth. He may not have an angel’s sensitivity to Love, but his own spidey senses are tingling with waves of desire. He falls back onto the bed, pulling Aziraphale on top of him, and smiles with the promise of a _very_ happy ending indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on [Tumblr!](https://notesoflore.tumblr.com/)


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